


You Are Not

by gyromitra



Series: Days of Our Superhero Lives - R76valentines [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: For clarification: Reaper and Gabriel are different characters, M/M, Superhero!AU, and oh so many feels (for the author), there are bigger hints of the story than usually, this is still marvel telenovela thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 12:01:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11623095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gyromitra/pseuds/gyromitra
Summary: In which there might be too many Tracers, a hero meets villain’s family, a princess makes an appearance, and there actually is, in fact, a war taking place somewhere.OR“They were supposed to be more discreet.”ORThe plot is an ugly thing and it slowly rears its ugly mug up from the depths (if squint and turn your head right way).





	You Are Not

**Author's Note:**

> Fun Fact 1: There are several scenes moved from this part to a future one.  
> Fun Fact 2: There is a little scene that made the author tear up because he knows what's going on exactly.

With the title of Glorious Leader, one would expect someone with a certain gravity. Jack certainly did not expect a middle-aged woman with her hair full of freshly made curl-papers, remains of greenish beauty mask on her face and wearing a pink bathrobe to boot. Not to mention baby-blue flip-flops. Oh no, the gravity thing certainly is there as he fights down the urge to just squirm under her scrutiny, but the image it brings to the mind speaks more of a disgruntled mother inspecting an unworthy suitor.

“Jack, I see. Turned out better than I thought. Forgive that boy, he wouldn’t know how to court properly even if his life depended on it.” This time the scathing look is reserved solely for visibly cringing Reaper. “The both of you, you should be already married, and you, you should’ve told him al…”

Reaper moves with desperate speed and clamps his hand over her mouth with a warning hiss of scandalized ‘mother’, or at least that’s what the translator Lena slipped Jack beforehand provides helpfully. Well, it’s either that or ‘ice-lizard female of extinct species’. Every language has its intricacies, he supposes.

What follows is a heated whispered exchange of mostly profanities and Jack thinks he should really tell them he can understand them a bit, considering what is being said.

Glorious Leader throws her hands in the air.

“Do what you want. You are worse than your great-grandfather, you ungrateful boy!” She turns on her heel and marches off, the pink bathrobe swirling behind her in the air dramatically.

After an awkward moment of silence, Reaper sighs, relaxing visibly.

“That went better than expect…” The baby-blue flip-flop, thrown with a frightening accuracy from the corridor, smacks him straight in the face. Jack closes his eyes for a moment. He feels he needs to make a point.

“Jokes aside, I’m not going to marry into family like this. Your mother scares me.”

“She has that effect on people,” Reaper groans from the floor.

*

Jack has to admit that the little streets and alleyways they are walking through are enchanting, with all the storefronts and cheerful (mostly) inhabitants, even if some of them look a bit suspicious. It’s only natural to be wary of something – someone – that looks like it crawled from a radioactive sewer. Even if it potentially smiles and waves its slimy appendage at them in what appears to be a friendly fashion. So possibly he is prejudiced against particular forms of intelligent life, not like he had a chance to meet them personally. At least, Jack thinks, he can own up to it to himself.

And Reaper and he are certainly not holding hands, no, absolutely not, because… Okay, they are maybe holding hands a little bit and it maybe feels surprisingly nice. Jack sighs and looks up to the sky where the rings are visible through the garlands of vine-like plants spanning the gaps between the buildings and the reassuring light squeeze it earns him almost makes him smile.

“So, what did your great-grandfather do that you are worse than even him?”

“Started three intergalactic wars while pursuing his Royal Consort. He was not that big on diplomacy.” Jack opens his mouth but isn’t sure it’s a question he really wants to ask, not about this ‘his Royal Consort’ thing in any case. “Grandma sorted it all out. She could be terrifying sometimes.”

“It… seems to be a running theme in your family.” Reaper chuckles at that. “So how many wars have you started?”

“So far, none, darling. Wait here a second.” Jack, left alone in the middle of the street, swallows. He feels completely out of place and can’t help nervously looking back, and… wait, was that Tracer tackling someone to the ground in the distance? Was that Tracer tackling herself…? “Here, darling.” Jack almost jumps at the words, surprised, and Reaper hands him a stick with translucent rainbow orbs stuck on it. “Sweets.”

“Right.” Jack eyes them suspiciously and takes a cautious bite as they continue along the street. He can’t, again, describe the taste, except the fact that it undoubtedly is sweet, and it’s a bit gooey and chewy. “Not that bad.”

“I sure hope so, darling.” At a small intersection with a modest fountain in the middle, Reaper pulls him closer after he takes another bite, and with the smirk obvious on his face, Jack knows what’s coming. It’s cheesy, it’s romantic and overtly straight out of certain kind of novels, but with one hand on the small of his back and the other on his rapidly burning cheek he doesn’t really mind.

He does mind the fact that there is, again, a starship hovering above them.

“Is this going to happen every time?” Jack groans as he hides his face in Reaper’s arm.

“They were supposed to be more discreet,” Reaper sounds none too pleased when a bluish, maybe even violet, woman – who appeared almost out of thin air – hands him a pad he cursorily checks, all the while not releasing his hold on Jack, and then hands it back. “I’m sorry, darling, it seems we will have to cut short. There has been a possible infiltra…”

The side of the ship in the air explodes in a ball of fire and it shudders, losing stability. Reaper growls something along the lines of ‘cowardly sons of void-were-cow’ – at least according to the translator – and pushes him hastily towards the woman.

“Widowmaker, take him back to the palace.”

“I can take ca…” Jack tries to address the issue because he damn well is capable of handling himself in situations like this, but Widowmaker interrupts him.

“Your Imperial Majesty, please, allow me.” The woman insistently tugs at his arm while giving him a stinkeye of epic proportions Jack is absolutely sure he does not deserve because he’s just met her. So he just complies, sighing. “Be assured that your safety is my priority.”

In distance, there are sounds like shots fired, and Reaper dives in for a quick peck on the cheek before moving away in something that looks like a cloud of sentient smoke. Jack has a sinking feeling that he definitely has held back with his powers until now.

*

Glorious Leader (otherwise known as Reaper’s mother or thrower of deadly flip-flops) is furious: pacing in a small circle, throwing her hands up dramatically, and rattling off series of comments Jack’s translator can’t keep up with. Or, maybe, it is glitching. Or, working as intended, considering the many instances of convoluted animal terms it’s feeding him. Widowmaker, and a man by her side, both curtly answer each of the Glorious Leader’s questions.

Jack sighs internally and eyes the carafe placed among diverse dishes on the table. He’s pretty sure it’s alcohol, and, regardless of the fact it starts to seem like he’s forming a habit, he fills the glass with its contents.

The drink is pleasantly sour and sobering – which does not prevent the sudden coughing fit when someone sidles up to him and unceremoniously grabs his elbow.

“Jackie,” the woman starts in conspiratorial whisper, her eyes almost twinkling and mischievous smile trying to split her face in half. “I’ve always wanted to meet you!”

“…why?” Jack finds it hard to believe anyone would be excited over meeting him personally.

“I’ve heard so many stories, oh, so many stories,” she winks. That certainly does nothing to put him at ease. “You have any dirt on the old man?”

“Old man who?”

“Reaper, who else?” She shrugs, enunciating the obviousness of her question with a roll of her eyes. Jack finishes his glass in one gulp.

“He makes a habit out of kidnapping me.”

“Don’t you say? He thinks it’s rather romantic himself.”

“And you are…?”

“Sombra,” Reaper seethes from above before she manages to answer. “You are grounded.”

“And I believe, princess,” Widowmaker sounds equally unamused in her monotone way, “that we shall have a serious talk about using time displacement generators responsibly. Again.”

The carafe looks tempting, undeniably so. Jack knows his coping mechanisms are definitely unhealthy. Scratch that, they are unhealthy.

“One,” Sombra pouts. “Bite me, Spider-bitch. Two, daddy dearest, I don’t think mommy will let you ground me,” she winks and just disappears as if she never were here by his side.

“Daddy?” Jack glances up. Something flashes on Reaper’s face, his lips tightening for a moment, and Widowmaker makes herself scarce while Glorious Leader screams what the translator helpfully supplies as ‘I have fornicating enough of this fornicating breeding of ice-vipers’.

“I…” Reaper sits down, not looking at him. “It’s a long story, darling.”

He’s going to break my heart all over again, Jack thinks to himself, and his lips itch for a cigarette he doesn’t have. But even if it hurts at least a bit now, all this is in the future, and he will not-deal with it then rather than now, so his hand sneaks forward and he twines together their fingers.

“…s’okay.”

“No, it’s not.” Reaper’s words carry startling vehemence and a hint of desperation as he turns to Jack, his other hand raising to rest at his cheek. “You’re my mate and…”

There’s something bittersweet gripping his heart in his chest and Jack moves forward, bringing their lips together, surprising both of them. Somehow, he cannot help but feel like crying, but, at the same time, in this very moment, he does feel loved.

*

Truth be told, Jack is very happy the time when he was expected to be the point of interest of an official party like the one he is attending right now is long past. Sure, he has to show his face, stand around a bit, exchange some platitudes with people he doesn’t know or care about, but nothing actually stops him from planning a stealthy exit to go back home and either go to sleep or run some training simulations.

Especially since Reaper has been suspiciously absent in general during the recent fortnight except that one instance where he popped in interrupting the team meeting to kiss him stupid (Jack would really prefer him not to because he had to excuse himself there and then in the aftermath), wish him ‘happy birthday’ and leave behind a suspiciously well-packed gift. Which was perplexing, he got the day right, but the actual date was still two months away.

Jack sighs and sloshes his drink in the glass he’s holding, observing briefly there’s only one Lena chatting up some girl on the floor and Emily is suspiciously missing – which basically means that all enclosed areas are off-limits. And as far as his own personal experiences go, it even includes bigger cupboards. Meanwhile, Wonder Boy does his social butterfly thing, dragging behind visibly disgruntled Gabriel. Ha, serves him right.

The yelp Jack lets out when Reaper materializes by his side and immediately commandeers his arm is indisputably undignified.

“What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you, darling, actually,” Reaper leans in, kissing his cheek. “There are some people I think you should meet.” Jack groans because it is his worst nightmare – he is not good with social interactions of this kind, at least not anymore.

“What’s this thing about anyway?”

Reaper gives him a doubtful look.

“We’re setting up an embassy, darling. Come.” This time Jack gives Gabriel, passing them, a commiserating nod. Gabriel, on the other hand, glares daggers, and he simply cannot imagine why as Reaper leads him away. “But I believe this one you know, darling.”

“Your Imperial Majesty,” Widowmaker probably curtsies, at least that’s what it seems to be in her stilted way, and the scruffy man beside her salutes nonchalantly.

“Hi, boss-man.”

“Jesse…?” Jack asks, squinting, slightly thrown off because that can only be older Jesse McCree who mysteriously disappeared before shit hit the fan…

“The one and only. Fancy meeting you here,” Jesse extends his hand and Jack, his mind whirring into overdrive, shakes it. “I suppose you got some stories to tell?”

“What are you doing here? What were you doing all that time?” Jack ignores the question in favor of his own and then stops for a moment. “Have you talked with Gabriel yet?” Jesse laughs nervously.

“Oh, you know, I’m actually here on security detail with Miss Amelie,” he nods at Widowmaker who, in turn, grimaces at him, showing her displeasure. “And not yet, maybe later,” he adds sheepishly. “The little shit keeps navigating away from us, really.” Widowmaker elbows him and he gives her his famous puppy face. “What, I’m stating the obvious!”

Besides him, Reaper chuckles warmly, and then lightly directs him away.

“Let’s allow them to work in peace, darling.” Jack nods noncommittally because he is still trying to wrap his head around Jesse McCree, of all people, working for Reaper, and, truth be told, being here right now.

“Right.”

What follows is less uncomfortable than anticipated meet and greet of several people and Jack happily complies since he apparently is not expected to actually do anything. Another swiped glass of whiskey certainly helps with that all in general, but really, he doesn’t mind being touted around almost like a literal accessory in this situation – it lets him tune out everything around into comfortable buzz.

Until Reaper stops by the balcony and turns around towards him.

“I have to do something, darling, it will take a minute. Wait for me?” Jack nods and finishes his drink. The place is almost secluded and he heaves a sigh of relief, moving to the balcony itself. A shuffle behind draws his attention and he glances back briefly.

There are two men dressed in dark tuxedos and wearing sunglasses approaching him, and if that doesn’t scream ‘shady government agency’, Jack doesn’t know what else they could be. The first one stands blocking the exit, the other steps closer.

“Mister Morrison, we would want to talk to you about your relations with Reaper.”

“We are not having any relations,” Jack barks out, more out of habit than anything else.

“Well, Mister Morrison,” the man briefly clasps his shoulder and Jack’s sure he just got some ‘shady government agency’ cooties from the touch itself, “whatever it is you’re doing, keep doing just that.”

“…what?”

“We will see you around, Mister Morrison.” This sounds vaguely threatening and Jack flips a finger at their retreating backs. God, he really could use a smoke right now, as the events of the evening replay in his head, and the pleasant buzz from alcohol is diminishing.

“Here, darling,” Reaper hands him a cigarette, then lights it up. The whole situation is slightly unreal, Jack thinks as he inhales the smoke.

“You know, it’s funny. Gabriel would be all up in my face about it, but you actually indulge me,” Reaper observes him with a certain fondness undercut with something sadder before moving in closer to rest his hand at Jack’s hip.

“I’d prefer, darling, if you didn’t smoke at all. But,” Reaper amends with a kiss to his neck and Jack really doesn’t mind if the whole world is watching right now, “this is a part of you, and I would be a fool trying to change you so you fit my idea of you. What is important, you are you, and you are here and now with me.”

“You know, your mother’s wrong. You’re really good at that courting thing,” Jack drops the cigarette down from the balcony – which he knows he shouldn’t do but it’s not like there’s anyone around that would call him out on it, not when he’s here with the guest of honor he’s about to kiss.

“I sure do hope so,” Reaper laughs and Jack brings up his hands to grab his face. About to kiss, right, he thinks when their lips touch, and he really, really, doesn’t give a shit who could be watching. At all.

“Take me home,” Jack mumbles moments later with his face tucked in Reaper’s shoulder.

“Tired already, darling?”

“Something like that…”

“Hang on then,” Reaper slides his hand to the small of his back and there is that tugging feeling of teleportation Jack managed to already get used to considering how many times they had traveled in this fashion up to this point. “Here you are, darling,” Reaper steps back but Jack doesn’t let go of his hand.

“Stay the night?” It sounds so meek that he flinches a bit, feeling stupid. The following silence does not help and Jack fidgets, looking at the floor.

“Are you sure?” Reaper finally asks.

“No. Yes.” He can feel the blush spilling over his face and knows it’s an ugly thing, the way his skin colors and how the scars stand out against it. “Maybe,” he admits, sitting down on the bed, and pulling Reaper to himself.

“Anything for you,” the man kneels in front of him and brings his palm to his lips, kissing the knuckles lightly, almost reverent in a fashion.

The morning is going to be awkward, is the last rational though Jack has.


End file.
